I grew up with the smell of salt stinging my nose, sand between my toes, and a tendency to fidget while sitting on a pew. The sun would always kiss my skin, and I smiled big and wide despite a gap right where my front teeth should be. "Hafa adai!" My sister and I would always say, laughing and screaming in joy as we danced amongst the Chamorrans, two tiny Vietnamese-Chinese girls. Every afternoon we would be in our mother's restaurant, lounging in a booth, eating delicious honey walnut shrimp until our tummies grew round. Life was easy then, happiness around ever corner and everyone is family when you live on a small island. Every Wednesday, my father, a cheery Vietnamese man, would always take us to the festival in the square and we would ride on caribous, pass around leis, and drink root beer floats for dessert. Life was simple then.

Now I'm more aware. I know I cannot go back to those days of blistered skin, high cholesterol, and joyful ignorance of the world around me. I know now that those caribous go to slaughter, that the tiny island was suffocating, that the God I grew up learning about is not a God I believe in, and that honey walnut shrimp does not have honey in it at all. That's just a part of growing up.

But back in 2005, when it was easy to stop by McDonald's and order a cheeseburger with some nuggets, sweet and sour sauce please, life was good. Now life has its sweet points, but just as many sour as well. That's just life itself! Plain and simple like honey walnut shrimp.